


Addict

by chileancarmenere



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keran leaves the Order to take up mercenary work, but is still addicted to the lyrium. Bethany smuggles him lyrium potions to keep him sane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addict

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much a total crack pairing, and a little AU.

Keran waits at the sewer exit in Darktown, his hands plaiting nervously. When he’s gone for too long without the dust, it feels as though there’s a great weight on his chest and he can’t breathe, his hands shake and there’s a buzzing in his ears. If Bethany doesn’t come tonight, he’ll be ruined. He can’t do a mercenary job like this. When he’s reached this stage, all that he can do is crouch near the entrance to the Gallows, sucking in air that has the faintest, most evanescent scent of lyrium to it. The templars see him at the gates, but instead of kicking him away, they smile smugly at him. He loathes them for their sense of superiority; he wants to shout in their faces that they’ve sold their own souls to something they know is wrong. At the same time, he envies them. Every day at breakfast, they get the dust.

There’s a rattle at his feet and Bethany, blessed Bethany, shifts the grate aside, wincing at the clang. “Keran?”

“I’m here,” he whispers, kneeling down to help her pull aside the grate. She clambers out, covered in spiderwebs and something that looks very much like blood. “Did you…”

“Spiders,” she offers. Her face is grey with exhaustion, and there are cobwebby lines around her eyes. Even her lovely black hair has become thinner and lank as the pounds melt off her frame. But she has the beauty of an angel in his eyes, because she has lyrium potions strung through her belt.

“Here.” She knows that there’s no purpose in talking to him until he has some lyrium in his system. Bethany unhooks a small bottle and hands it to him. Keran snatches it and unstoppers it, his hands shaking so badly he’s afraid he’ll spill some. He swallows it greedily and the lyrium flows down his throat, ice cold and tasting of mint and violets. The familiar lightning spreads through him, that Maker-blessed prickling. His knees fold under him and he finds himself at her feet. “Thank you,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

Bethany kneels down beside him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. It’s getting worse.”

He takes another gulp. “I’ve heard. I wish I could do something.”

“What you could do, you did. You left.”

“But I couldn’t get you away.” His blue eyes meet her brown ones. She reaches out slowly and cups the side of his face. “You would never have been able to. And I didn’t expect you to. Besides, if you had, who would have gotten you lyrium potions?”

Keran turns his face away. He is an addict, a hopeless, useless fool drunk on lyrium potions. When he left, he had hoped he might do some good, but now he finds that all he does is kill people for coin and huddle at the sewer exit every night, craving the dust.

Bethany has always known what he’s thinking. “You did what you thought was right. No one can blame you for that.”

“But while I’m out here, you’re rotting in there.”

“Don’t say that. There are worse things than being a mage in the Circle. I don’t need you to be my hero.”

“Since you’re the one saving me,” he says wryly.

She giggles. He loves her laugh; it’s sweet and intoxicating and he so very rarely hears it. “So you don’t have to be my knight. I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m okay now. I have the lyrium, and you’re here.” He leans forwards and kisses her. She purrs deep in her throat, and curls into him a little. His hand finds the small of her back and pulls her closer. When she opens her mouth, he tastes the sharp tang of lyrium. His muscles clench. He wants to hold on to her forever, licking the faint traces of lyrium off her skin, kissing her lyrium-scented hair. He wants to pull her to him tight, and never let go.

Bethany slides her hands up to his shoulders, pressing herself against him. She trusts him. He knows that she trusts him completely; otherwise she would never be out here, risking the brand to bring him the substance he craves.

He breaks the kiss, and cradles her against his chest instead, rocking her back and forth slightly to try and make her feel safe. She is more than the lyrium; she’s the woman that he loves.


End file.
